


when I wake up

by fallish



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, but not ghostbur yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29987370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallish/pseuds/fallish
Summary: Tommy's been sleepwalking for years.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 10
Kudos: 160





	1. might've been a nightmare

It’s always been a bad habit, the sleepwalking.

When he was younger, Tommy got used to waking up in Phil’s bed, under Will’s, outside Techno’s room. He never remembered how he got there, and the varied responses had always been fond. It was never a problem.

Phil put stars on his ceiling to make his room better lit, even at night, despite his claims that he wasn’t scared of the dark. He collects capes that Techno outgrows and lines his bed with them. Wilbur helps him find discs with music that lull him to sleep.

Eventually, he sleeps through the night in his own bed.

***

Things change when he and Wilbur make L’Manberg official. The nights inside their walls are dark and he finds himself reaching for comfort without thinking about it. He curls around Tubbo while he’s completely asleep and when asked how he got there in the morning all he has to offer is a boyish grin and a laugh.

Tubbo doesn’t seem to mind anyways.

Wilbur ruffles his hair and casually wraps around him while he sleeps. He says it’s just like old times when they were with Phil and Techno. Tommy agrees and stops being so concerned about his bad habits.

***

He doesn’t sleepwalk so easily after his duel with Dream. 

Instead, he shoots up in his bed, hands grasping at the arrow that he knows isn’t there, he knows they dug the arrow out so he could respawn, and heaves against the burning in his skin. It keeps him upright, doesn’t let him move without pins of heat shooting from his heart to his fingertips. He keeps himself still but every twitch is still agony.

Sometimes Tubbo finds him and helps him lay back down.

Sometimes Wilbur finds him. He doesn’t want to think about the look of guilt mixed with pride he gives him as he puts a cup of tea next to him and sits with him until the pain recedes enough for his eyes to blink shut.

***

Pogtopia is different. He doesn’t sleep as much. Techno doesn’t sleep at all.

He says that war preparations are more important. Tommy is decently positive that Techno can’t think of anything but war with as little sleep as he’s had for the weeks he’s been with them.

He elects not to bring it up and curls up in the bed Techno sleeps in when he does deign to rest from his potato farm. Techno and Phil had always been the closest so they always smelled a bit like each other. It makes the bed more comfortable, reminds him of home and his dad and the North. He still can’t sleep through the night, but when he occasionally wakes to Techno’s hand in his hair, his soft, gruff voice talking to Wilbur, he falls asleep that much easier.

While he misses Tubbo, he can’t lie, the sleep he’s getting has been nice.

***

After the festival, Techno’s hand feels more like Dream’s arrow.

Tommy’s lucky he doesn’t pull out all his hair while he sleeps.

***

Will’s going insane, and to say that Tommy doesn’t want to be anywhere near him is an understatement.

Still, he’s trying to change his mind. He’s doing everything to convince him there would be no benefit to blowing up L’Manburg. Will’s laughs aren’t helping his cause.

He sleeps in bits and pieces, a few minutes here and there.

Techno wants the same thing Will wants. Dream wants what Will wants. It feels like he’s the only one who thinks it’s a bad idea.

He wakes up in the woods some days, far out of the ravine, close to where the walls used to be. When he wakes, he climbs to the edges of the hills overlooking his past home and wonders what his friends are up to. Other times when he wakes up, he stares towards where he knows the entrance to Pogtopia is and _wishes_. 

It does nothing for him.

***

In exile, there are no more walls to keep him contained. The slim cloth of the tent he and Ghostbur set up waves in the wind. The flaps don’t even close right.

*** 

He wakes up in the water.

A sharp intake of breath sends him fighting to reach the surface, a violent spasm of his limbs as his lungs fill with water, fighting for air.

He nearly doesn’t make it, water splashing around him as he desperately kicks out, turning, searching for land, sputtering. Through his blurred vision, he catches a glimpse of Logstedshire and hauls himself onto the beach, barely minding the sand as it sticks to his fingers and his knees and his arms. Hacking up water and gasping he presses his forehead to the sand, shallowly taking in oxygen, calming himself.

He’s on an island in the middle of nowhere.

Ghostbur is probably in his tent or back in L’Manberg.

He’s alive.

Tubbo isn’t anywhere near him.

The thought makes him want to turn back to the cold shock of the water, but he shakes his head like it will shake the thought from his head.

The thought makes him want to turn back to the cold shock of the water, but his arms shake violently from the cold and push him further onto the beach. Shaking his head, he tries to forget he ever had wanted to be back under the rough waves.

He moves his bedding out into the open, pulling the sheets under the stars so it looked the same way his ceiling did before all this.

He doesn’t dare put in the chirp disc, but he thinks about Clara, up in the stars and carefully doesn’t let the thoughts drag him under the waves of sleep again.

***

The longer he stands at the top of his tower in the clouds contemplating Dream’s nagging taunts crowding the back of his skull, the more he wonders if he got up here on accident.

While all the explosions and the buzzing in his ears feel so real, they don’t feel any realer than the fever dream Logstedshire has been.

He thinks of seeing Tubbo by the portal, nails ready to claw at him for leaving, only to blink and realize there was nobody there. He thinks of Ghostbur’s voice briefly slipping back into something more familiar, to seeing the friendly ghost blink innocently at him.

The pain in his chest stays real, right by the cold metal of his compass. His scars, which never come with him to his dreams, stay real, stay feeling distinctly _wrong_. Through all of it, Dream’s voice stays real, feeling wronger than anything else. He knows none of it has been right, but it has been distinctly, punishingly real.

He never deserved any of it. When he jumps, he aims for the water.


	2. he's back, the madman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling from high enough makes hitting the water feel like cement, you know?

“Tommy?”

Wilbur’s voice rings in his ears. Squinting his eyes, he winces at the immediate bright darkness in front of him. The oppressive atmosphere almost stops him from opening his eyes altogether, but _Wilbur_ is here. Not only is he here, he’s a few feet away, just standing around like nothing happened since he entered the SMP, orange shirt and leather jacket as new as the day he got them.

“Did you miss me?” Wilbur quirks his mouth, inquisitive like he doesn’t care either way. 

Tommy knows him better than that, knows he’s dying for what he thinks is the _correct_ answer, can see the quiet, nearly covered up desperation behind his eyes as he studies him. “You want me to say yes, you dickhead.”

It doesn’t quite make him laugh, but it chokes something of a noise out of him before he hums, pausing to consider his words. “It’s less that I want you to say yes and more that I don’t want to hear a no,” he admits sheepishly. “But we both know you’re too stubborn to meet me halfway,” Wilbur glances back with a half smile, “And you won’t say yes.”

He’s right. 

He won’t. 

“I mourned you, Will. Is that what you want to hear? That I remembered you?” He snorts bitterly, “It’s not like I could fucking forget. Your ghost, or whatever the fuck Ghostbur is, he hangs around.”

“You know, I don’t actually know how much of him is me,” Will studiously ignores everything else, and it’s just like him to do that, “I think he’s more L’Manberg’s ghost than mine.” 

“He’s enough you that I didn’t get to miss you,” Tommy replies quietly.

The silence between them is thick as steel.

Wilbur gets this look in his eyes sometimes, when Phil missed a birthday, or Techno didn’t understand when a joke went too far, the look he has on right now. 

It’s a look that Tommy knows means ‘let this go’.

“I’m sorry,” He starts and it’s like the lid that kept it all down disappears. 

“You’re _not_ ,” Tommy cuts him off, teetering on the edge of viciousness, “You’re not sorry ‘cause if you were sorry, you wouldn’t have fucking asked. I watched Phil cry over your body, I didn’t even get to _bury_ you.”

If he could breathe, he would be heaving, but the sheer absurdity of the situation settles in his ribs, weighing him down to his heels.

“I have Ghostbur out there. I thought you were gone. Am I gone?” It’s hitting him now. _How is Wilbur in front of him? How did he get here?_ Memories of that morning, the smell of TNT, the burning feeling in his palms, jumping off the tower, “Did I miss the water?” He sounds incredulous even to himself, “I can land every fucking MLG, there’s no way I missed the fucking ocean.” 

And even though it hurts, he’s dragging his hands over his skull, searching for the hurt, the abrasion that could’ve caused this.

“You’re fine,” Wilbur sighs. “You’re not in the afterlife anyways. It doesn’t look like this there.”

“There?”

***

He blinks and he’s in the water again.

It’s just as startling as waking up under the surface the first time, but this time, when he swings around pushing to the surface, he’s also looking for Will.

He collapses on the beach again, taking a long breathe and squeezing his eyes firmly shut. With the ground beneath him and the heels of his palms pushing into his eyes, he lets himself have a moment of relief. 

The good part is that he isn’t dead.

The bad part is when he opens his eyes, Wilbur is looking right down at him.

He thinks he should not be held accountable for how fast he scrambles back, a shriek yanking itself out of his lungs.

“I know I said give me a holler if you need me, but I’m pretty sure I meant my name or something,” Wilbur casually shrugs like any of this is normal then grimaces in pain. “You just had to bring me with you, didn’t you?”

Tommy is pretty sure he’s hyperventilating.

“Uh,” Wilbur shifts from heel to heel. He’s wearing the coat he would always wear in Pogtopia, the one that Tommy is sure he kept back in a chest at his house. “You good?”

“ _Am I good?_ ” he asks hysterically, blinking rapidly then digging his palms into his eyes again. “No, _Will_ , you’re _dead_. You are supposed to _be_ dead and I am very _not good_ right now _._ ”

It’s almost sad that he had felt anything akin to relief even for a moment. He almost forgot who he was. He doesn’t get _moments of peace_.

“I’m not sleeping. I don’t get nightmares,” he continues, not looking at the new ghost, “But you just can’t be real. There’s no way.”

Wilbur shrugs, “You’re the one who dragged me out of death. I was doing fine with Schlatt. Mexican Dream’s fine too.” Studying his forearms and hands, he continues, “I think I might still be dead because I sure as fuck don’t look alive.”

“What the fuck,” For a solid second, he debates just staying in Logsted, just staring at the sand underneath him. “What the actual fuck.”

Suddenly delighted at his newfound freedom, Wilbur rocks on his heels, “C’mon, Tommy, I know you remember all the good times we had in that ravine, don’t you?” That stupid crooning voice haunts his every waking minute. No shit he hasn’t forgotten. “You can trust me. You sure as hell can’t trust anyone else. We can go back to L’Manberg, see how much better they’re doing without us. It’ll be fun!”

Tommy considers it. Dream has no idea what he’s going to do. He said wasn’t coming back for at least a week. ( _The only friend you might’ve had and you fucked it up,_ his mind coos while he tries to shove the thought down) It wouldn’t be that hard to get one single block of obsidian. ( _With what materials_ , he can picture himself raising an eyebrow at him. His thought-self can fuck right off.) 

But Tubbo hasn’t come to visit him. And maybe he’s still angry and showing up wouldn’t make things better. Ranboo might want to see him, but Tommy hasn’t checked the mailbox in a while. 

“We aren’t going there,” he mutters. Gathering everything from where Logstedshire once stood, he makes a slow circle. “On the first day of exile, Dream said Techno lived in that direction.”

Wilbur shoots him a flat look. “You want to walk through the snow.”

“Yes.”

“With one shoe and a torn shirt?” 

He keeps the same blank tone, and it makes Tommy snap back, “Well you’re welcome to _fuck off_ if you don’t want to come.”

Will heaves a long sigh like it does anything for his ghost body. “No, I’ll come,” he shoves his hands in his dumb ghost pockets, “The frostbite is going to take your last canon life and I’m going to laugh.”

“You’re stupid and no one likes you.”

“No one likes you either,” Wilbur gives him a half-snort, “It’s why you’re out here.”

Tommy resolves to walk faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know im the writer and im supposed to know what's going on but i dont and i had this thought and now im rolling with it and you all need to go with it while i figure out what the plot is, okay? cool.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur isn't the best brother, and Tommy is very good at letting him know that.

They decide to stay overnight in a village. 

Technoblade could be anywhere along the line Dream had pointed to. It wouldn’t do them any good to keep traveling without supplies to head north, and honestly, before they keep going, Tommy needs a break from Wilbur.

They’re in a cabin they’d commandeered for the night. While Tommy rests near the fireplace, Wilbur sits with perfect posture in the middle of their bed, and unfortunately, he hasn’t shut up yet.

“Do you think he’ll be happy to see you? After that,” Wilbur grins while tilting dangerously close, “ _fantastic_ showing on the 16th? Who knows if he’ll even let you in! I bet he won’t want you anywhere near him.”

Tommy feels like maybe he brought another Dream with him. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who has ever wanted me near you.” he mutters, rubbing feeling back into his numb feet. He had traded his leftover sticks for emeralds and, despite the frankly ridiculous prices, he’d spent them on a pair of leather boots. 

Narrowing his eyes, Wilbur looks fairly uncomfortable with his phrasing. 

“Okay, so you probably didn’t want me around either, I get it.” He jerks his chin to his chest and doesn’t let the offense phase him. It’s not like he expected anything different.

“Dream wants you around,” Wilbur keeps his eyes on anything but him, even more shifty, like the words won’t fit in his mouth. Even though Tommy knows better that he wouldn't even mean it, the words serve their intended effect.

“Dream doesn’t want me around. I fucked that up,” then he violently shakes his head, “No, that’s not right. _I’m_ the one who doesn’t want _Dream_ around.” Dream only wanted to watch him. He wanted Tommy out of the way. He probably wanted Wilbur out of the way too, wouldn’t have given him the tools to blow up L’Manberg otherwise. “Besides, I’m a big man, remember? I don’t need nobody.”

It’s an old joke, one Wilbur typically would have laughed at when he was sane, but this Wilbur looks at him like he doesn’t know him. This Wilbur looks sad for some reason.

“What?” he snaps, yanking the soles of his new shoes to bend correctly.

Wilbur’s voice is soft, longing, “You really don’t need me anymore, huh? I don’t think you’ve needed me for quite some time, actually.”

They’ve had this argument dozens of times. “Will, I left because I needed to. We couldn’t stay in the north forever.” 

“I could’ve, if you’d stayed.” Wilbur has always been homesick, even when they were home. In the north, they’d spent too many nights together, wondering if Phil would be back, or if they’d been forgotten again. It had just given Will a reason to get angry and Tommy a reason to stay antsy.

“Then it’s better that I left.” He never did like being stuck in one place.

There’s too many of these long pauses between them as of late. 

“If I hadn’t, you’d have never figured out that you needed a life outside of Phil leaving us all the time,” And he knows how much it hurts because it hurt every day like a hole in his chest after he left, but it needs to be said. “You wouldn’t have gone mad, but you wouldn’t have had Niki or Fundy or Sally. You’d just stay cooped up in that stupid fucking cabin all day with your guitar, singing about waiting all the time.”

He doesn’t rant, not really, but Wilbur still looks fucking sad and it’s not his fault. Wilbur was always waiting before he left, waiting for a sign to leave, a letter from his father, a will to go it alone. It’s neither of their faults that Tommy got sick of waiting. Dream gave him an invitation. It’s not on either of them that he took Tubbo and ran.

“Dream wasn’t good for you. I’ll own up for that much.” If there’s one thing he’s actually sorry for, it’s letting Dream meet his brother. 

Dream had been better before Wilbur, more of a brother than an enemy. Meeting Wilbur had changed him in ways Tommy can’t help but want to take back now. Before Dream, Wilbur was genuine and wanted what was best for them. Tommy can’t pinpoint the exact moment where things started going downhill, but he’s sure it had been the two of them together.

“Dream was good to me, better than-” Will stops suddenly.

“Yeah, you want to finish that? Better than Techno? Phil? Better than _me_?” Tommy scoffs bitterly, “Believe what you want to, but I tried to help you. Until the day you died, I was fucking there, asking you to listen. You kept pushing us all away. I know you don’t even know how Niki felt. I bet you never said a fucking word to Fundy. That’s on you, not us.”

“I thought words were my weapon,” Wilbur shoots him a dirty look. “You were never this aggressive before.”

“You were always trying to make me like you before,” he glares back.

“Smarter?”

“Paranoid,” he retorts.

“Well, Tubbo’s left you now, hasn’t he? I was right about that, and I’ll be right about Techno, too.” Will slouches on the bed a villager had allowed them to take for the night, content with himself and his so-called 'proof'.

“You’re not right about Tubbo. He’s been looking out for me. Ranboo said so.”

“Ranboo? That guy who can barely remember his name half the time? That Ranboo?” He laughs, “You really think you can trust him?”

“You only know the things about Ranboo that I told you about him. He's the only person on this server not trying to screw anyone else over,” Tommy snorts, “I also know he’s real so I can trust him. And I trust him more than I trust you, easily. ”

Tommy glances up from his work on the boots. Wilbur is staring intensely at his own hands. “I don’t know if you’re real. I barely know if I’m sleepwalking right now. Even if you are, we aren’t going back to Dream,” That much is guaranteed. “I have one goal right now, and that’s the disks. None of this would have happened if Dream just gave them back, and now I’m fixing it so it can go back to the way things were.”

“Things shouldn’t go back to the way they were,” Wilbur points out.

And to some degree Tommy agrees. “Maybe,” Just going back to the way it was couldn't fix everything, “But maybe things shouldn’t have to be the way they are now either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a conversation these two genuinely need to have before they get to techno's because, let's face it, if Wilbur doesn't get it through his skull that he made bad choices, then he won't get better

**Author's Note:**

> hi u can find me [@bumbleben](https://bumbleben.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. i write occasionally there too. hope yall like this one because i liked exileinnit (and its all an excuse to write a single scene in the second chapter lmao)


End file.
